


Swapped

by justakidfromhellskitchen



Category: Marvel, Young Avengers
Genre: Comic Con, Cosplay, F/F, The Avengers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 10:58:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3131996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justakidfromhellskitchen/pseuds/justakidfromhellskitchen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based upon a prompt from OTP Prompts on Tumblr:</p>
<p>Imagine person B is in a long distance relationship with person A.<br/>They decide to meet up at a convention.<br/>Guess who they come dressed up as?<br/>Each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Late Night Webcamming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lady_mab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_mab/gifts).



It has been four months, seventeen days, and five hours. They met on Tumblr, through an Avengers RPG hosted by Kate. It was just chatting first, but America knew she was in trouble after that third conversation. It was one of those nights where they talked, laughed, and RPed way past two in the morning, pacific time, which meant that Kate was up until five. It only ended because America had to call Kate to wake her. It was Kate's groggy sleep-ridden voice that hooked America; she knew she'd want to hear it every morning.

"America?" Kate says now.

America's eyes track to her webcam, forgetting she isn't alone. "Lo siento, chica. My turn?"

"Yeah, are you too tired?"

America minimizes Kate's laggy stream and pulls up the Google Doc, staring at the blinking cursor. "No, it's only nine here. But if you need to go to bed--"

"We're just getting started," Kate says, and there's enough of a grin in her voice for America to switch between screens again. Kate's smile lights up America's monitor.

"What?"

"Mm?" America goes back to their document though opting to let a mini screen of Kate's image stay atop her screen.

"You were staring."

America scrolls to the bottom of their RP guiltily. "I was not."

"Do I have something in my teeth?"

American snorts softly. "You look fine... But what should we do with this scene?"

Kate gathers her hair out of her face, spinning in her chair thoughtfully. "I think Clint should find out."

"Oh, that's evil," America approves. "We should do it."

"Poor Natasha, though."

"Clint already knows all the rest of her secrets, though. He's gonna be fine."

Kate sighs dramatically. "But it's going to kill Natasha. She doesn't want to hurt him."

"The plot demands it." America is already typing the sentence that has crawled in and housed in her mind.

"I know, I know, I just..." Kate says, but she cuts herself short, doubtless hearing the sacred sound of the keyboard.

"Posted!" America sings after a few minutes.

"You're going to love this."

"Oh god, I am terrified."

"No, seriously, chica. Take a look."

America thinks Kate is the perfect Natasha. She has played with others, but Kate's just naturally good. The warmth of her words reach across three thousand miles and wrap America as if in an intimate hug.

They write until Kate is sprawled on her back and snuggling her computer.

"I don't want to go," she wines, sleepily.

"We'll see each other soon, chica."

"Only a week," Kate breathes. "I can't imagine you, you know, like in 3D."

"I know. It's hard to imagine you as a real person."

"Imma hug you so hard in the airport."

America feels her face heating.

"You're still coming to pick me up?"

"Hell yeah, chica."

America suddenly sits up straighter, her chair protesting with a squeak. "Wait! You never showed me your cosplay."

"That's a surprise."

"Come on, chica."

"Nope!" Kate says cheerfully though her face is puffed with sleep. "Gotta wait until Comic Con."

"Fine, fine."

"What about yours?"

"Well," America runs fingers through a mess of her hair. "I was going to share but since you're being secretive..."

"It's a good price to pay." Kate props her head on the palm of her hand.

"You're so stubborn."

America's heart presses to the bars of her rib cage as Kate's smile brightens her dark room again. "It's why you love me."

Truer words, America thinks, have never been spoken.


	2. Airport

 

"Landed!"

 America pockets her phone. Her heart is in her throat, and she can't seem to swallow it. The smell of grease mixes with that of stale coffee, and it boils her already unsettled belly. Her eyes refuse to leave the escalators leading to gate 27 from which Kate is supposed to emerge.

 America waits for another subjective epoch. Around her there is a cacophony of noise -- muffled gate change announcements; the squeaking wheels of luggage carts on linoleum; the Starbucks baristas nearby shouting things like, "Venti caramel frap with with extra whip for Kayla!"; and an assortment languages spoken by various couples and families all waiting for their loved ones to arrive like America.

 Then, a flash of purple, catching America's eyes. Color drains from the terminal, leaving only the purple and the bright white of Kate's nervous smile.

 "America!" Kate calls as their eyes meet and sprints an impressive distance along with her luggage, flinging her arms around America.

 Not exactly certain what she's doing, America lifts her off the ground and twirls her around, grinning like a fool. "Hello, chica."

 They fold against each other for a few, long moments. Kate eases against her, and America can smell the scent of lavender, fresh laundry, and something else that makes her think of pine trees in snow.

 "You're even huggier in person," comes Kate's muffled voice, tickling the skin right underneath America's ear.

 "That's not even a word," America says, though she is smiling.

 Kate's nose burrows against America's shoulder. "Shut up and take the compliment."

 An old Japanese woman with a cane passes them by and gives them a stoic smile. They're causing a spectacle, hugging so intimately in the middle of a busy airport, but America doesn't care a bit. She has her arms around Kate who is warm and small and fits against her chest without any difficulty. By the time they untangle from each other, the luggage carousel has already begun to rotate.

 "Which one's yours?"

 Kate's smile widens, straightening her bangs. "Take a guess."

 The words are barely out of her mouth when a bright purple suitcase slides down to join its companions on the belt. "Why did I even ask." America heaves a mock sigh. "Do you own anything that is not some shade of purple?"

 "There's this awful red dress that my mom makes me wear every year for Chinese New Year when we visit relatives." Kate tosses her sleek black hair over her shoulder. Her Facebook pictures and Tumblr selfies do not the real Kate Bishop any justice.

 "You own a dress?" America says, eyebrows quirked.

 "I occasionally wear them, too."

 "I gotta see this, chica."

 Kate plucks the purple case off the conveyor. "Well, you should come around to New York for Chinese New Year this February, and maybe you'll see me wear it."


	3. Cosplay

"All right, close your eyes."

"Chica," America expels out a breath, trying to sound exasperated but only managing to become more amused. "I'm blindfolded."

"I know you're peaking," comes Kate shrewd voice, and a moment later, America is breathing in her lavender-and-pine scent as delicately long fingers snap the makeshift blindfold lower on America's eyes. The slit of light visible to America suddenly disappears, replaced by inky darkness.

There is a lot of rustling, and America bounces in anticipation on the soft hotel bed. With her eyes closed, it feels as if she is perched atop a cloud.

"Are you ready?" Kate sounds out of breath.

"I was born ready, chica."

The blindfold slips off, and America blinks blearily. Before her stands Kate. She is not in purple, though, but rather clad in red, white and blue. America blinks again. But the colors stay put, as stubborn as Kate herself. Kate is wearing tight black shorts, a royal blue shirt with a white star on her chest, and a red zipper hoodie. But most impressive is Kate's usually languid hair which is in big curls not unlike America's own.

"Do you like it?"

"Wait." America holds up a hand. "Wait wait wait. Is this your cosplay?"

"This is my cosplay."

"No way, chica."

"Way," Kate says with a sultry smile, crossing her arms across her chest. America notices hoop earrings dangling from her ears, too. "Who's gonna stop me?"

"You're dressing as me?"

"Surprise!"

"Okay, it's kinda perfect." America's fingers twine in one of the artfully constructed curls. "How the hell did you get these curl to stay?"

"My awesome super powers." Kate flips up her hood and takes a pose and says in an overly dramatic basso, "Don't mess with me, chica."

America snorts, hard.

"I'm only missing your outer jacket." Kate fusses over her outfit. "But I thought I could maybe get that from you."

America leans back on the bed, balancing herself on her elbows. "'course you can, chica."

"Really?" Kate's face lights up. "Oh man, Miss America's authentic jacket!"

"Are you fangirling over me now?"

Blood pools in both of Kate's cheeks. 

America recalls her signature poker face. "You ready for mine?"

"I was born ready, chica," Kate says in that same basso voice again, striking a different fighting pose.

"Dios, I hope I am never this corny." America picks up a duffel and slings it over her shoulder.

Kate calls after her, "Only when you fight, chica!"

America closes the bedroom door, chuckling. She unzips the bag, extracting a purple spandex overall with a leather belt.

"Imma regret this," she mutters to herself, kicking off tennis shoes and starting to strip her clothes.

America fights her way into a replica of Kate's fighting uniform, gathers her hair out of her face with a bright purple band, and steps into ankle boots she would not be caught wearing to anything but Comic Con. At last, America gives her reflection a final nod before shouldering a slender quiver and an honest-to-god hunting bow.

"Holy shit." Kate is standing right outside of the bathroom door and her eyes widen. "You're me, too!"

"I doubt your costume is as itchy," America mumbles darkly, picking at a spot over her left shoulder.

"Oh god, but it looks so perfect on you, okay? Like super perfect."

"You think so? I mean, I still have to straighten my hair--"

"I'll do it!" Kate volunteers.

"I have a lot of hair."

"But seriously, how perfect are we? We didn't even plan this."

Kate's excitement does not seem to be dying down, and it fuels the ruby fire in America's heart. At last, apparently unable to withhold herself any longer, Kate lifts to her toes to kiss America's cheek. Before Kate can pull away, though, America's fingers tangle in her hair and claim lips she has been wanting to kiss for four months, twenty days, and six hours. They are even softer than America has dared to imagine them, and ... they are kissing her back. Kate's fingers have snaked in America's curls, tugging her closer.

Their kiss is a little sloppy at first, so they stop, adjust themselves, and are overcome with a fit of giggles. It takes them much longer than it should to find each other's lips again.

"We got time before Preview Night," Kate says into America's shoulder. "Wanna take me around downtown San Diego?"

"Mm, how about Seaport Village?" America's fingers rub in gentle circles at the small of Kate's back. "There's ice cream in it for you, chica."

Kate's fingers thread between America's and squeeze lightly. "It's a date."


End file.
